THE  PLAYS	133
can seem a long time to wait for a West End financial
success, (Arms and the Man, so far Shaw's only play to
achieve West End production, was only a succes d'estime?)
The position was the more tantalizing because You Never
Can Tell had come within an ace of possible success: there
had been money behind it; a darling of the West End
stalls, Cyril Maude, had graced its cast; it had survived
a fortnight's rehearsals; and survived them moreover at
the Theatre Royal, Haymarket, London's most exclusive
theatre. Poor Shaw, so near yet still so far!,
It was at this frustrated stage in his fortunes as a play-
wright, with the smell of the Haymarket battle still in his
nostrils, that William Terriss, the stunning but unintel-
lectual idol of the Adelphi Theatre's melodramas, suddenly
asked Shaw to write him a play suitable for a world tour.
Shaw jumped at the idea. Eager to * arrive' at last, and
thoroughly enjoying the descent from the august Hay-
market to the popular Adelphi, he quickly obliged with
The Devil's Disciple, Unfortunately, however, Terriss
fell fast asleep during Shaw's reading of the play although
neither Milton nor Siegfried, we may be sure, formed any
part of the preliminary conversation. Exit, therefore,
Terriss, declining the play.
And enter Mansfield. For Shaw, who never forgot the
actors who acted his plays, had one eye on his American
Bluntschli when writing The Devil's Disciple: hence one
reason for the play's American setting. Anyway, four
thousand miles away and so unable to be lulled into a coma
by Shaw's beautiful reading, Mansfield accepted and pro-
duced the play. On learning of its success Terriss promptly
reopened negotiations with Shaw, but was mortally shot by
a lunatic at the Adelphi's stage door before completing
them, thus making his final exit and leaving Mansfield in
sole managerial possession of the piece. Mansfield, too,
had his troubles, however, and when told by a friend that
he should go down on his knees and thank God for such a
successful play he replied that he knelt nightly, but always
ended his prayer: 'But why, O God, did it have to be by
Shaw?'